


Mind Over Matter

by conchepcion



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Crack plot for utter pervy reasons, F/M, Omega Verse, Smut, Soul Bond
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-29
Updated: 2017-06-21
Packaged: 2018-03-20 06:18:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,180
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3639972
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/conchepcion/pseuds/conchepcion
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Molly decides to try out a new type of suppressors. But there's an alarming side-effect to the otherwise perfect solution to stop her from fretting over the Alpha Sherlock Holmes - she can hear his every thought. Omega!Verse.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. First Symptom

**Author's Note:**

> Three parts. This is the first obviously. All mistakes are mine.
> 
> Do indulge me with encouragement for this utter madness - for it's just getting started really! ;)

“There shouldn’t be any lingering side effects,” Meena said with better conviction than the usual online advert.

 

Molly had really wanted to believe her.

 

These pills if they worked would change her life. All of a sudden the glossy _‘No More’_ pills (they were still working on the name) in a cheery pink casing existed. The sort of pills she’d been daydreaming about when she was a teenager and her heat was something she had to grabble with locked up in her room like she was some distressed Omega in the early 1930’s. She’d been the one to lock her door of course, and no one in her family could blame her. There had been no want in being bonded to someone, or any of the other sordid solutions she knew. She couldn’t help reading out the details about her ‘ _condition’_ at the time.

 

The very first in her family or so they’d said, until they discovered that her Great Grandmother on her father’s side of the family had been one. Her Great Grandmother who by some fortunate luck never really suffered, as there were fewer Alphas’ out there back then.

 

During that time, the condition was considered an actual illness and linked to Hysteria. Molly had been the _fortunate_ one of the Hooper’s long line of innocent Beta’s to be an Omega. Her parents hadn’t been prepared to the whole business of it, and Molly herself only felt enveloped with shame when she remembered how much she moaned and railed and wanted and yearned.

 

This was of course before suppressors were permitted within the UK, and when they were, she was thankfully much more focused. Then came the daily life of eating various pills at certain times a day - planning her every meal and who she could be in the company with at certain times of the month.

 

She had truly longed for that sense of normality, which so many others around her seemed to have. They didn’t need to eat a pill to reduce their heat or another to make them less receptive to Alpha’s - then one to stop Beta’s who were somewhat receptive, and of course vitamins because of the physical strain the other medicine had.

 

Molly had been through her share of remedies, and despite constant promises, it usually ended with her returning to the original medicine. Not that any of it really helped when she was working besides the worst Alpha out there. The one Alpha who somehow miraculously turned down Omega’s left and centre, her included, and had only had an on-and-off relationship with another Alpha (besides that strange fraudulent affair with the Beta Janine).

 

To summarize, Sherlock Holmes made her fight daily against her natural urges with more conviction - for years.

 

It was a miracle that she hadn’t caved into her urges, despite moments of weakness (the ‘coffee’ suggestion one of them), but it was because they weren’t getting on like they used to, for various reasons that had nothing to do with their compatible biology and all to do with - “ _Oh, I was flying off to die for six months - I did mention it - well - I did now_ ,” and “ _Your ex-boyfriend Jim is on my naughty list, Molly. Happy Christmas.”_

 

She was glad when he suddenly flew off to Russia with John Watson, the pair of them blogging about some case which she’d briefly read up on - ‘Dismissed FN leader, and his family all found dead in a locked safe house with the alarm system on’. She may have devoured the information, but she’d scowled at every picture she could find of Sherlock.

 

When Meena had finally mentioned to her about her ‘pet project’ that her company had been working on for over two years - “I didn’t want to make you excited if we failed - so - I haven’t been trying to duplicate sheep’s exactly no -,”

 

“Does this mean - - you haven’t failed?” she’d almost lost her footing that day, and then eight months later she received one of the first beta-test kits (aptly named) from Meena.

 

“Now, promise me you’ll keep that diary or Dave will have my head-,” she’d said. “Just in case something unexpected happens. We haven’t had any anomalies yet, but something might pop up, like an extra nostril - _kidding_.” The anomaly was certainly something Molly didn’t expect and it was a whopper. It was the sort of thing that made her consider seeking professional help from someone who didn’t occupy labs surrounded by white mice and tiny training wheels.

 

Smacking the door shut to the thankfully empty examination room she listened to the dial tone with her phone pressed up against her ear. She’d have a couple of minutes at best, enough of time to make a quick call, and luckily the dial tone ended abruptly.

 

“Hello?” said Meena clearly woken up from her sleep.

 

“Oh thank God!” she whispered, the tenseness in her shoulders diminishing ever so slightly.

 

**_“Where is she?”_ **

****

“What’s wrong?” said Meena on the other end quickly recovering, while Molly popped a finger in her other ear, her shoulders back to their previous rigid state, besides the undeniable redness creeping into her cheeks.

 

_Oh she should never have agreed to be a test subject._

 

“I don’t think it’s working like it’s supposed to!” Molly hissed into the phone.

 

“What? What do you mean – have you been throwing up? Oh God. We’ve got to start from scratch again. Jesus. Dave is going to be so disappointed…”

 

“No! It’s not that – it’s-,” began Molly, but before she’d even gotten to finish the sentence the door to the room snapped open and Sherlock looked at her with an expression of mild bafflement. It was just like him to smell her out, especially when he wasn’t supposed to be able to.

**_“Is she hiding from me?”_ **

 

“Molly,” he said with a carefully raised brow, his expression calm, but she knew all-too well what was going on in that head of his.

 

After all, she could hear his every thought.

 

_\- 2 days ago -_

 

** Day 01:  ** 07:44 

_Ate the pill with breakfast. Don’t feel any different, though it might still be working. My suppressors don’t usually make themselves known. ~~It’s not like I instantly feel less inclined to shag. Do I? Hmm…I’ve been going on them for so many years that I – wow –~~ They don’t need to know that I think? _

Despite feeling optimistic about her friend’s project regarding suppressors, she’d been rather sceptic. There were loads of adverts out there about new suppressors that revolutionized the whole concept of ‘Alpha & Omega’, and allowed them to have a freedom of choice.

 

It did not need to only be about biology, but about the respective peoples actual wants. But she was hesitant to believe in it, for suppressors in general were still rather new in their conception. Very many felt that Omega’s shouldn’t be allowed to conceal their true nature, though that was perhaps due to their shortage in the UK. But Alphas in general took suppressors or the majority of them would be in trouble in their daily life.

 

Meena had despaired over the whole topic; railing off about how stupid the government were for trying to enforce the Omega’s to be _public_ , especially when it was still rather taboo a subject _._ For her own sake very few people knew about her status, and one of them was of course Sherlock who she for a while pretended took suppressors because of her, though that was probably her own surge of hormones talking.

 

Hopefully with these new pills she wouldn’t even feel a twinge, constantly having to phone into work because she was going through a more than irregular heat. Molly knew it was because she was ‘stalling’ like her mother kept calling it, warning her that if she wasn’t careful she might snap entirely, but hopefully she wouldn’t experience any of that.

 

10:23

_Went out. Didn’t feel a twinge when I passed Matthew in the shop across the street (he’s a bonded alpha who doesn’t even use suppressors!!). Not even the regular migraines._

_Is this how it is for everyone else?_

* * *

 

 

“How are you feeling?”

 

“Normal.”

 

“How’s your blood pressure?”

 

“Normal as well,” she said peering at her wristwatch feeling at ease, while she walked through the rather barren hallway, occasionally giving a nod to a passing nurse or doctor. “And my blood sugar too, if you wondered. Mike was nice enough to test me.”

 

“Lovely – you’ll have to do another round tomorrow though, just to be on the safe side. I don’t want you to suddenly experience any swings – you haven’t experienced any, right?” said Meena nervously on the other end, while Molly only grinned in return.

 

“No, none – it’s very nice, really.”

 

There was a relieved sigh on the other end, and Molly felt herself relax on the idea that her _friend_ finally returned. “So – has his highness popped round yet then?” said Meena with a laugh.

 

“No,” said Molly with a sigh. “I suspect he’ll be the real test then?”

 

“You know how you are around him…when he was gone those two years you seemed pretty happy-,” said Meena while Molly only felt like sighing. _Maybe it’s just my type._ Tom never stood a chance being a Beta, and he deserved her telling him, but for once she liked to pretend she was normal. Not one of the few percentages in the country that completely lost it once a month (Her Great Grandmother managed). “ – Then the git came back and you literally had your tongue hanging out – sometimes I do wonder if you’re really an omega – you’re not _very_ obedient-,”

 

Molly laughed though she sobered up instantly, her eyes darting about reluctant for anyone to overhear. “I suppose it’s all about the right…” she started in a whisper, but she didn’t want to finish the thought, though Meena did it for her -

 

“If only the right alpha got his head out of his arse.”

 

“He isn’t like that-,”

 

“ _Right_ …He let you slap you – he’s an alpha! He should have literally had you pushed up against the wall, your legs apart, his knee bent between -,” began Meena who suddenly snapped – “How do you feel?”

 

“What?” said Molly blanching at the change of tone.

 

“Did that image set you off?”

 

“No?” she said laughing.

 

“I should have known better,” said Meena sighing. “Right – call me if he makes an entrance though.”

 

“Yeah, of course.”

 

“Not that kind of entrance mind you.”

 

“No – he wouldn’t...”

 

**_“There she is.”_ **

****

She blinked, her sentence hanging in the air, as she took in the sight of the empty hallway. “What’s wrong?” said Meena, while she stopped in her walk, turning round to see if there was anyone nearby.

 

Only flickering lights and the sound of the air conditioner whirling.

 

“Nothing…” said Molly softly, shaking her head a bit, before she began walking again. “Thought I heard something....”

 

23:02 

_Alpha at work did not appear. Though I did hear a voice. I think it must have been a faulty speaker in the hospital. We had a problem like that last year - made Mimi in fifth believe she heard voices. It only lasted for an hour or so, and infrequent as well. Hopefully one of the side effects isn’t hearing voices!! Haha!!!_

* * *

 

 

** Day 02:  ** 08:46

_Same as yesterday really, though appetite has increased slightly. Don’t really mind, as usually my appetite doesn’t really exist during heats. And it was nice to keep down my breakfast for once._

“Molly-,” said a deep baritone voice that almost made her drop all her test samples onto the floor, though she caught them in time to stare into the familiar face of the man who usually made her head feel - _nothing_. His dark curls and piercing blue eyes didn’t make her insides melt, though she recognized them to be handsome features, besides his fine straight nose and prominent cheekbones. Neither did his usual attire with his dark coat and a black tight shirt, the buttons almost popping off make her start. She could smell the sandalwood from his soap, but the musk didn’t make her knees weak. “Molly?” he repeated with more bite this time, eyebrow raised, as she beamed at him wordlessly in return. His rather rattled expression waned off at her expression it seemed, as he soon headed off to the coat tree to hang away his things.

 

“Back from Russia?” she said in a bright voice, her dimples prominent, and cheeks rather hot because of this earnest miracle. She wasn’t a complete mess, and she just kept staring at him until he had dragged off his coat, showing of his thin yet muscular body.

 

“Yes - and you are-,”

 

Not even a twinge, but the most ordinary thought ‘ _wonder how often he works out, a lot then?’_ Taking in every little detail of him unabashedly, she almost felt like clapping her hands together, and giving Meena a call, or even informing him of the current development.

 

“Very good,” she said smiling.

 

His opinion about her status was unknown to her, as they’d skirted around it for years. However, she knew she wouldn’t manage to keep shut about this too long, probably dropping it like she did the ‘ _sex’_ word on occasion to see his disgruntled face. Sherlock was staring at her though, like he’d caught on something in the air, but he was getting that familiar previously rather hypnotic stare of his. The gaze that usually held her in place, but looked like he was as usual asking for a favour.

 

“Can you do me a favour?” he asked, his voice dropped an octave lower, and the hint of what could be a growl in it.

 

She almost laughed outright at his face.

 

Instead of that irritating hollow pit that grew in her stomach whenever she felt like disobeying, her body practically aching and every other self of sense pushed aside - she was relinquished entirely.

 

He was just an ordinary man before her, handsome and somewhat intelligent, but all in all just a man. She didn’t need to make a dance of it, or bend the rules of her own nature for once. Molly Hooper could for once in her life out right say - “ _No.”_  

 

It felt like the world stopped, like the whole of St Bart’s had fallen silent at this moment, and she smiled stupidly because of it. Sherlock, however, looked like she’d punched him. There was a sort of bemused expression on his face, like he was slowly catching up on the information, as if he was expecting her to comply belatedly instead.

 

Even standing so close as he was where she could feel his breath against her cheek, she did not do anything but blush, which frankly was odd (she’d have to remember to write that down). It turned silent, and he cleared his throat and she redirected her attention to her work.

 

**_“She’s disobeying me before I’ve even given the order.”_ **

“Sorry?” she said looking up alarmed from her samples, causing Sherlock to take an almost faltering step back, though he began to recover, replacing his surprise with a smirk. “What did you just say?”

 

“No, need to apologize,” he said smiling. He’d been picking up old tactics these days, which was very annoying. “Now do you mind-,” he began his eyes on her microscope, clearly wanting her to clear off when there was _another_ one in the room, but it was unusual that he’d be that honest.  

 

“What do you mean about giving me an order?” she said taking off her gloves, rather glad she could have an argument without feeling ill.

 

“What?” he said blinking stupidly.

 

**_“She must be on new medicine, even her scent is different. How annoying! I’ve gotten used to that scent and now I have to make myself immune to this one as well? Thank you Molly Hooper – now would you be so kind as to bend over and let me sniff your knickers? Would save us some time!”_ **

The problem with that long speech was that his lips hadn’t moved during it, his face the semblance of cool and collected. “What?” she said gaping at him.

 

Sherlock looked perplexed at her in return. “Is something wrong?” he said with his brows furrowed. **_“If she opened her mouth a little bit more. Stop. Not here, never her…Shut up!”_**

****

“I’ve – I’ve got to go-,” she said before more or less sprinting out of the room in top-speed, trying to avoid the voice. ** _“She hasn’t figured out that I was here yesterday already?”_** There was no mistaking that deep voice.

**_“Would be like Stamford to tell her.”_ **

****

_Oh my God._

 

 

* * *

 

** Day 2:  ** 21:17

_Possible snag. Possible. Heard voice. Yes. Actual voice._

_I keep on hearing a voice…not good - not good. And the voice sort of sounds like **the** alpha that visits my work? Is that mental? It’s mental. It’s utterly mental. Oh My God. Okay. I’m all right. It’s not real. ~~It just sounds like Sherlock.~~ ~~Shit. I’m not supposed to mention his name.~~_

 

_**_“Is this how it’s going to be? I’m going to leave the country. And every time I return, St Bart’s is in uproar? Maybe I should have bonded with her years ago out of sheer convention.”_ ** _

 

She’d lost it, _clearly,_ obviously. That was the only logical explanation. _‘Sorry Meena, side effect is insanity. I’ll see you when they let me out’._ Maybe it was just a temporary voice? “ ** _She’s always begging, I can smell her juices overflowing between her thighs, like raspberries and - oh for god’s sakes… Two hours since last - apparently another dosage needs to be applied. Boring!”_**

 

 

Just one of those ‘temporary’ voices that sounded like Sherlock, like he was whispering into her ear about her… juices. Obviously that wasn’t real. He’d never once shown interest, and they’d been strictly professional in every way, popping loads of pills between them. “ ** _She can’t expect me to not see her when I return? Ah. Office. Obviously.”_** The door to her office slammed open, and he was leering at her with that familiar face of his, while her head was still predominantly reeling.

 

“Sher - Sherlock? Umm  - what’s wrong?” she said in the calmest voice she could muster. Finally every single little Omega-urge drained out of her, but with one large side effect. **_“You’re not naked with your legs spread over your desk? Maybe I should have taken the pill - before - I entered her office.”_**

 

“Have I - done something wrong?” he said with an innocent expression, his brows furrowed and his lips pursed.

****

**_“She’ll be easier to work with if I apologise now.”_ **

 

“I’m sorry?” she said with wide eyes.

**_“What?”_**  

 

“I apologise if you think I was being unpleasant, Molly, but I really do need your help-,”

 

“ ** _Oh look she’s blushing. Hook line and-“_**

****

“Get out,” she said standing up from behind her desk. “Just - get out.”

 

**_“What’s gotten into her?”_ **

 

“Fine...” he drawled, his eyes briefly darting to her desk, though he was out seconds after.

 

“ ** _A journal. Symptoms. Voices? What voices?”_**

****

“Okay,” she said with a deep breath. “Okay, I’m not - I’m - I’m okay-,”

 

“ ** _What’s wrong with Molly Hooper?”_**

****

“That’s not helping,” she cried out against the door, not that _he_ could hear.

 

* * *

 

 

** Day 3:  ** 16:15

_Considered calling in sick today, but that wasn’t real? Was it? I should have called Meena last night, but I didn’t feel right. She’ll probably test me loads if I tell her, not that I shouldn’t be tested, but it just felt so REAL. It was probably just a one off. I haven’t encountered anyone else like that? So why him? I did try talking with Matthew at the shops, but he just looked at me like I was mad. I’d do that too if someone was silent and squinting at me. I couldn’t hear what he thought though, but I can’t…I can’t REALLY be hearing Sherlock. Sherlock bloody Holmes is not - no one hears him - Oh god what if I really am?!!!_

“You’re serious?” said Meena on the other end, while she nodded against her phone, knowing her friend couldn’t see her, but she really needed to keep her mind off things. “ ** _She’s in…ah - on the phone - but she usually doesn’t run out of the lab for personal calls-,”_**

****

Molly immediately lowered her voice, “Yes, I’m serious. I can hear-,”

 

Light stole into the room, as the door opened revealing Sherlock standing in the doorway. “Molly?” he said. “Why are you-,” he raised his brows when he noticed that she took a step back.

 

**_“Is she scared of me?”_ **

 

“Is that him?” said Meena on the other end.

 

Worryingly she bit her lip, “Sherlock - you mind?” she said putting on a smile. “Please?”

 

**_“This isn’t Moriarty? …No, he’s gone. She’s safe.”_ **

 

He stared at her, his blue eyes seemingly emotionless, while she felt all the confusion of his internal honesty. With a nod he walked back outside, the door snapping shut as she let out a breath.

 

“Meena,” she hissed more fretfully than before, torn into bewilderment at that sudden reveal. Every mention of Jim and her _had_ been a joke after all. Snide remark after snide remark about her poor choice in romantic partners, but apparently he was worried she was being harrowed by a master criminal. “This can’t be real!”

 

“…This is your only side-effect then?” said Meena after a minute.

 

“What? What do you mean this is my _only_ side effect? This is a terrible side effect!”

 

“Well…I don’t know.”

 

Molly gaped, “This has happened before, hasn’t it?”

 

“I’m not lying when I say I didn’t expect it to happen to you.”

 

“Meena - - what’s going on?”

 

“Okay, so it was 1 out of 115 tests… We considered it a fluke mostly, because who wouldn’t? The pair of rats who’d been through the round - harmless testing mind you, since you _do_ mind - umm - well - they sort of - seemed to have a telepathic connection.”

 

Molly almost lost her phone, her hand trembling.

 

“Wait - I’m - I’m not going mad?”

 

“No, you’ve just, well, we ran tests on the rats, and, err, apparently - they were connected on a deeper level.”

 

“What kind of deeper level?” she said slowly terrified of what direction this conversation would lead her.

 

“You know how many mean the origin story to the alpha and omega’s were based on soul bonding, and all that rubbish said by the philosophers?”

 

“…Are you telling me that - - Sherlock and me - we’re - we’re-,”

 

“Yeah - soul mates, yeah - I’m sort of saying that - and - your biology is in tune, more or less, but if you want to be _romantic,_ then yeah. Soul mates it is, then.”

 

* * *

 

It was _real_. It was his inner most private thoughts, and despite her flat-out denying what Meena had told her, she knew somehow it was true. But she was glad that distance lessened the chance of her hearing him. **_“Where the hell is she?”_ ** She supposed that he couldn’t suppress his dominative traits, despite his better judgement, for all the cool intellect he seemed to be harbouring outwardly - - **_“I should bend her over my knee and punish her for being gone so long. My hand sliding over her - oh shut up!”_** Molly was annoyed that she found herself flustered over what he thought, but at least it was because she was genuinely flustered - not only Omega-hormones. If they really were _soul mates_ , then it made sense, as he’d always gotten through any barrier her medicine put up. Pushing open the lab door she found him settled by the microscope, testing some skin samples, and swiping a finger over the screen of his camera phone. He didn’t say anything on her entrance, eyes glancing briefly into her direction.

 

There he was her _soul mate._

 

The most difficult Alpha there was as well.

 

“Hi…I’m sorry I walked out earlier,” she said pressing her lips together when she saw his hand still over his phone.

 

**_“I doubt it.”_ **

 

She’d not as much walked out, as scarpered out of the room when his thoughts had driven her mad. Sherlock gave a muted nod from behind the equipment, settling aside his phone to attend to the various knobs of the microscope.

 

“Had a bit of an emergency with Meena, her - umm boyfriend-,”

 

“You’re a terrible liar Molly,” he said tersely. “So. Please. _Don’t.”_

 

“Okay,” she said archly, walking over to pick up on where she’d left off, though not keen on entering any half-conversation with him either. **_“She really must hate me…Looks like she can barely tolerate being in the same room. Not that I don’t deserve it. I didn’t exactly expect to live after flying off. Telling her before I left would have gained nothing, but more misery. ‘Oh Molly, yes, I’m going abroad to die - fun isn’t it?’”_**

****

She stilled in her actions, staring up at him.

 

“What is it Molly?” he said in a bored tone.

 

“I don’t hate you,” she said not able to help herself.

 

He stared at her, “How did - - I should, I should go.”

 

**_“What the hell is going on?”_ **

****

_I wish I knew._

 

Sherlock stared at her, his eyes on her closed lips. He paled in front of her, but he suddenly stormed off, the door swinging shut behind him.

 

_Oh my God... He can hear me._

 

 

 


	2. Second Symptom

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is terrible, but my tweaking has got to end at some point.

"Do you hear voices on a regular basis?" She gave to laughing, but his brown eyes only darted down to the questionnaire, his pen point placed precariously on the papers.

 

Sitting in a low swivel chair before him she cleared her throat, "…No?"

 

Dave began to scribble furiously on the papers, pen sliding with ease on the sheets, as his brows steadily became one intimidating scowl _._ It's like he expected she had several voices already in her head. She wasn't mad! She was just… hearing _things_. 'Things' meaning Sherlock Holmes, specifically.

 

Usually a cool lab room environment made her feel calm, though the sounds of the white rats running around in their wheels made her feel skittish at best.

 

"You've never ever heard a voice?" said Dave clearly not convinced.

 

" _Dave_..." said Meena in a no-nonsense voice, eyes narrowed as she put aside some of Molly's blood samples into a cooler. "That's not what we agreed to." Molly personally wished she had her own personal armour (read: her lab coat) on as well, for then maybe Dave wouldn't be pondering about her psyche as much as he was. They were equals after all.

 

Dave only bristled in return, "It's a legitimate question Meena - come on - - - also - are you hearing voices _right_ now?" He looked yet again at her expectantly while Meena rolled her eyes in the background.

 

Molly would have doubted anyone who claimed such a dream concept herself. No one in their right mind claimed they heard voices and was a sane individual at the same time. The fact that Sherlock could apparently hear her as well was something she really didn't feel like admitting, despite the scientific necessity of it, especially when she wasn't completely sure if it had actually happened (though it _really_ did seem like it). He wasn't even on the pills after all, she was on the pills, and the pills were only supposed to affect her. How could they have affected him? It was impossible. She might just be imagining it; maybe she'd really just properly lost it, which seemed like a much easier alternative to cope with. If that was the case she could just quit said pills and move on. They'd just have to drum up a new proto-type that didn't make the tester momentarily insane. Saying out loud that Sherlock could hear her as well would result in more blood tests (certainly), besides Dave's sceptic facial expressions, and her most likely being locked up (scratch possibly, definitely more like) for some time (a long time if she were honest).

 

The fact that she hadn't seen head nor hair of the consulting detective for days made her feel like withdrawing everything she'd previously said, especially if it made the pair of them stop prodding her. She wasn't even sure she'd hear him again after all. Molly scratched her head and cleared her throat trying to drum up an actual answer to his question, though clearly it was _yes_ , she really began to look back on her childhood with some mild hesitation. She'd had an invisible friend, though she hadn't really heard him when she was a child. Then again, there was one option that loomed in the background in the shape of a dated old book from the 1920's that Meena had brought to her attention after she'd told of her experience.

 

The book was about _soulmates_.

 

The one thing she'd always thought was some conniving political trick to subdue everyone into believing there was a meaning to everything _._ Her instant reaction hadn't been a happy one, feeling the pit of her stomach squirm and her skin crawl, as she could almost hear Sherlock in her head scoffing at the sheer idea. _Soulmates! God no!_ The book that Meena had showed wasn't about this supposed 'pure love', but more about humans and their apparent wordless communication with 'wolf dogs' (she couldn't help bursting into laughter). She was soon directed to a more recent article in the _New Scientist_ about the probability of soul mates in Alpha and Omegas, but there were no other confirmed incidents in humans. All of it was just a hypothesis. None of it made her feel poised enough to bring it up without feeling like a prize-idiot, as she could pre-emptively hear Sherlock enunciate his distaste over the entire concept, both externally and internally. It all felt fanciful despite the handful of rats in the laboratory who apparently seemed to silently communicate, then again, they weren't famed for their speech patterns, but she felt a bit cheered to see all of them separated and going through various challenges that were supposed to be done together - yet successfully. Maybe there was some truth in the matter after all, but…

 

Would he...

 

Would _he_ want to try the pills?

 

Not that she'd asked whether or not they had created pills for Alpha's as well. The research in that department was always more limited, as it seemed that Omega's were the ones who had to hold back their urges (illogical as that is). If it was right this meant they were biologically compatible in every way, mentally - bodily - it was a lot to take in, but would he still want her as a _person_ throwing aside all of that? She wasn't even sure if she wanted him; then again, right at the moment she was still rather angry with him.

 

Yes, he'd had vulgar thoughts, _but_ he was startled by her change of medicine so maybe he had just been more affected by her biology - -

 

"Miss Hooper? _Molly?"_

 

She ignored that he didn't call her a Doctor, though felt a wave of annoyance hit her nonetheless. Despite being a guinea pig she wasn't entirely ignorant about the subject matter, especially when she herself had dealt and tested herself most of her adult life.

 

Dave's ginger beard and glasses came into view again, as he raised a brow at her before jotting something down. "...Sorry," she said with a small smile, soon biting her lip as she clenched her fists. "Drifted off a bit there."

 

"It's not another side effect...She's just got a lot of things on her mind-," said Meena in her defence.

 

"Besides voices?" said Dave who settled his pen into his chest pocket, soon returning to his computer, clearly writing her answers into their progress report, light from the screen illuminating his frames.

 

"Dave! For God's sakes! She's as sane as you and me! She was terrified when she could hear him - - so could you stop acting like a prick, and let me tell her about her test results instead?"

 

They'd been postponing the results for a while, which she couldn't pretend hadn't made her more nervous than necessary. But she supposed they would have brought them up immediately if there was anything to really worry about.

 

"I'm not stopping you-," he grumbled in return, while Meena jerked her disgruntled head to the glass doors, the pair of them soon walking out of the otherwise quiet lab, leaving Dave with the rats.

* * *

 

 

"He's been prissy because his test-subject hasn't had the same success," said Meena when they'd gotten to the canteen, the pair of them sitting by one of the sterile looking white tables echoing the lair of a James Bond villain. The company Meena worked for was rather posh and high up after all, despite the small team regarding the project, though few _believed_ in it, they were given a vast amount of money to work with. "He's happy it's working, but whatever we've discovered here could be huge-," Meena grinned at that, laughing a bit while Molly smiled uneasily.

 

"And?" began Molly who was a bit too eager to hear whatever was going on in her blood or head, so rushing the rest of the conversation felt rather compulsory.

 

Meena caught on, "You're - _fine_. Your blood results don't suggest anything wrong at all; neither does the scan of your brain. All in order - but -," here her friend paused, all smiles. "You're not sending out any of the usual hormones... The ones urging the usual Alpha to _come hither_ , more or less, which you know tends to get out, even a little."

 

"But Sherlock could still-," she faltered for a bit wondering if this was the perfect time to tell Meena of the newest development, but she stopped herself - " - _Smell_ me, you know." If they did indeed have a connection of some kind, mental and physical, then it wasn't surprising he did. Yet she could hear a little voice in the back of her head moaning - ' _it's not fair!'_

 

"...Are you worried about this? - Because you've always wanted to know what's going on in that thick skull of his, and now's your chance."

 

She tried smiling, but it didn't last - since if Sherlock could do the same it wasn't exactly an advantage. "You've still got that dinner party to go to, don't you?" said Meena encouragingly. Molly had almost forgotten about her invitation the Watson's. "It would be really good for the research if you did go, you know, just to check whether or not something's changed. Might have been just a one-off after all?"

 

Nodding in return, she tried not to think too much... Maybe she could manage to keep that up in case he showed up as well.

 

* * *

 

 **Day 7:** _19:15_

 _How do you tell someone that you're apparently soulmates and can hear each other's thoughts? Okay, the last bit he'll know...Will he though? Maybe I'm just imagining things and he didn't actually hear what I thought?_ _Maybe I just think he could hear me?_ _Somehow that sounds madder than me hearing him...The alpha hasn't been in the lab since, which isn't very surprising._

 

_I haven't mentioned the possibility of him hearing me yet either to anyone. ~~Must be the 'soul link'.~~ Oh god. That sounds mental!_

 

Reading her rather cramped calendar didn't bolster her whatsoever. _Remember! Dinner at John and Mary's!_ The hand that had written it on the calendar with a little smiley afterwards, had been blissfully ignorant of the future predicament. She'd only been worried whether or not it would work alongside her early shift the next day, trying to work things around, until she just had to accept leaving earlier than the rest. Now she had so much else to think about, then again, chances of Sherlock _actually_ being there were technically nil. 'A social occasion with friends that didn't throw him into the spotlight' wasn't one he'd graciously attend without John forcing his hand. And a simple dinner party too? Not a chance. Then again he might appear to test the waters, as she wanted to.

 

She'd debated prior to this if she was going to go - because she liked having a full night's sleep, but now she had to for science _._ Whether or not she could hear him was important, and even more so whether or not _he_ could hear her. If he didn't show up, she could just excuse herself off early, as that wasn't utterly rude either. She still took ages getting to their place, debating whether or not it was a good idea, as everyone else might be subject to their study. Yet she knew there was no turning back when she got into the tube. Maybe she wouldn't even hear him? That's what she repeated to herself when the panic started to surface again.

 

Molly had considered that hopeful thought a bit too much, despite the revolutionary scientific aspect of it all (especially since Meena was pestering her to even jot when she had loo-visits as well). Whatever it was could have been a really odd fluke really, like Meena had said, and she comforted herself with that idea when she stood outside the Watsons' Tesco's bag with a bottle of wine in her hand. She'd barely managed to steel herself when the door sprang open and revealed a happy looking Mary. "Molly!" she said giving her a quick peck on the cheek. "Good to see you're here - - thought you might not come having an early shift and all."

 

"I changed my mind," she said with a bright smile, listening a bit _too_ intently to her surroundings, catching only low voices, and the sound of traffic behind her. There was no familiar baritone voice, outside or inside her head. He wasn't there! He'd be loud and obvious; oh he would, wouldn't he? Her shoulders relaxed at that, Mary looking at her oddly for a sec, while she relieved herself of her coat, her smile becoming slowly genuine while she hung up her coat.

 

_He's probably not even here..._

 

_He's probably home…sulking._

 

Mary guided her inside to the table, while she giggled to herself.

 

"What's so funny?"

 

"Oh no, no, I just thought of something from work today-," she said with a toothy smile. She was relieved when Mary didn't press for details, only smiling to her in return as the pair of them went into the living room. John waved at her from sitting besides Greg on the sofa, the pair of them in a deep conversation of some kind, while - - she froze, struck in absolute silence, her grin evaporating like she'd been dunked in cold water. There he was, cool as a cucumber, sat in one of the comfy cushiony chairs, smirking at her.

 

_Oh my god…_

 

"The food is done in a minute or two," said Mary who began to walk off. "Wine is on the table though, Molly – so help yourself."

 

_Oh no. Oh God no._

 

She stood uncertain about what to do, her eyes flickering between the wine and him, hankering for the former all of a sudden. Molly hurried to the table, shakily grabbing a glass and pouring a generous amount into it, earning her John raising his brows. She didn't mind. He could think she was mad, because right now she was _listening_ and pouring, very carefully for that matter.

 

She could hear the ticking of the clock on the bookshelf.

 

She could hear the low volume of a children's program on a telly in the background, on for Louisa.

 

She could hear the sound of boiling water, and of a pan sizzling, but not _him_.

 

She took a large gulp of her wine, catching his eye and – "Molly," he said out loud, the corners of his mouth poking upwards. The smirk was unwavering, fixed on his handsome face, like he knew what she was thinking... Technically he did, or _did_ he? She didn't know what to think anymore. Maybe she'd just imagined it? Maybe it had just been some mad moment for her all in all?

 

"Hello," she said sitting down with the others, ready to join in on whatever conversation the others were having, keen on not looking _his_ way whatsoever. Seconds ticked on, John and Greg's conversation continued without any sombre interruption, neither her nor Sherlock said anything, nor _thought_ anything; she couldn't help but muse over, almost laughing of herself.

 

 _It was a one-off!_ she thought, triumphantly.

 

"So Molly – Mary said you'd started on these new set of pills?" said Greg drawing her into the conversation, her nerves uncoiling themselves, as she keenly leaned forward in her chair.

 

"Hope that's okay!" she heard Mary shouting from the kitchen, making her smile to herself.

 

"Oh, right," said Greg looking a bit flustered, eyes directed at the other two around the coffee table, John looking bewildered while Sherlock looked rather disinterested (thank god). "If you don't want to talk about it. We don't have to."

 

"It's alright," she said with a tentative smile. "There's not really been a problem with the pills? ...Though it started off a bit wrong if I'm honest. Side-effects tend to happen when they're this new."

 

"Hopefully they won't happen again," said Greg sympathetically.

 

"At least you seem alright," said John who rather indiscreetly glanced at Sherlock like neither of them were able to pick up on that clue.

 

She received what she expected, nods of understanding and mild confusion. People, who weren't _in_ the loop, didn't often know how to tackle the topic, besides generously asking a question once in a while. Molly couldn't help note that the majority of Sherlock's friends (if he'd call them that) were all beta - with the exception of herself. Why? She couldn't help but wonder if he did that intentionally to avoid possible entanglements, then again, he did pride himself of being an emotionless machine (however, _not true_ that was).

 

**_I'll say._ **

 

"What?" she said, whipping her head towards Sherlock who sat rather more stiffly in his chair, though still looking calmer than her with her bulging eyes. "Umm-," she turned to look at John and Greg who looked un-phased, the pair of them furrowing their brows in unison, and she _knew_ she'd heard that. Had she? ...Really? "Sorry, thought, umm, you said something."

 

**_I did..._ **

She looked at him, as he tilted his head, smirk extending his mouth. **_Yes, for God's sake you can hear me! Your thoughts aren't yours anymore, Molly, though I tried my best to keep mine under wraps. At least I manage that -_** ** _unlike you._**

 

"Hey!" she snapped, immediately clearing her throat, as the others blinked at her. She stared down at the glass in her hand, aware that wasn't helpful whatsoever, but not knowing what to do, or think.

 

**_Try to be subtle. Would you?_ **

 

"Umm, _how_ did it start wrong?" said John, eyebrows connected, and clearly thinking her _outbursts_ were symptoms.

 

"Just, umm, pain in my head-," she said stumbling in her words.

 

**_Yes, no need to let him diagnose this exactly._ **

 

She at least frowned convincingly enough apparently, since the two men just nodded in return.

 

"- Like this constant droning on and on in my head," she finished off, emptying her glass as well, relishing a glance at Sherlock's dour face.

 

**_Very mature..._ **

 

_Shut up!_

 

**_You're the one transmitting every single thought. Not ME._ **

 

_This isn't supposed to be happening. We're not supposed to hear each other, Sherlock! I don't know how to stop this._

 

**_Easy. Drop the pills._ **

 

"Oh? ...Kinda like Sherlock then? Could you try to be a bit social? You've been quiet since Molly's gotten here," said John looking aggravated at best.

 

_No. I feel normal!_

 

Sherlock rolled his eyes, "I have my reasons," he said getting to his feet, beginning to pace behind her. "Lots to think about."

 

**THIS is normal to you?!**

 

"You've got a case?" asked Greg instantly lighting up, looking towards John for more information.

 

_You don't drive me mad for once._

 

"No," said Sherlock with a sigh.

 

**_I can and will, if you let this go on._ **

 

_We'll see about that._

 

"Yeah, he's been turning down cases lately," said John.

 

"Oh? Really?" said Greg.

 

**_Yes, we will._ **

 

"Dinner's done," Mary cried out, and Molly was first to get to her feet, regretting it a little when the wine rushed to her head, but she still had her faculties.

 

**_Don't drink too much._ **

 

 _Don't be an arse._ It took the chatter to die out for her to realise she'd said that bit out loud. " - - - Umm, sorry-," she said with a rushed giggle, picking up the wine bottle off the coffee table to everyone else's amazed looks, minus Sherlock. She headed off to the dining table, followed by the others, while Sherlock lagged behind, looking thoughtful.

 

_I can do, as I like._

 

"You're not exactly wrong, you know," Greg joined in, in support, jerking his head in the direction of Sherlock who raised a brow.

 

She laughed.

 

**_Typical._ **

 

He sat down on the other available seat - right besides her, but she was not going to look at him. She was not going to look into his direction at all. **_Oh for God's sake! It's not like I've not done my research - - you decided to be a test bunny for your friend? Fantastic! Give up the pill immediately!_**

 

_No._

 

**_Why not?_ **

 

_Because no._

 

"Long day, Molly?" asked John noticing her frown.

 

**_Because 'no'?_ **

 

She gave a tight smile, "Just a bit thirsty," she said with a shrug of her shoulders, poring more wine into her glass, soon distributing the contents generously to the others who all eyed her, included Mary who was laying down the food on the table. Molly knew she couldn't keep the little bit of information she had stored in her head away from him, and she didn't see the point of trying to do so even if she found the whole concept fantastical at best.

 

_We're soul mates apparently..._

 

**_WHAT_ **

 

"Right," said John looking puzzled, his eyes flickering between her and Sherlock. "So - Greg - I saw you in the paper recently-,"

 

He obviously thought it was because of Sherlock.

 

He really wasn't wrong.

 

**_What do you mean we're soul mates - are you serious?_ **

 

_No, I thought it would be funny. Ha - ha. We're meant to be - pass me the wine bottle if you please. I'd like to get pissed._

 

**_It scares me that I know you're not lying._ **

 

_What do you mean?_

 

**_This is rather practical, though you've got to learn to school your expression. You might as well be wearing a microphone by the way your face is showing off every emotion._ **

 

_I don't want this to continue, Sherlock!_

 

**_Neither do I, but we can make the best of it. I suggested stopping the pills after all. You're the stubborn one._ **

 

 _…_ _As long as YOU don't think dirty thoughts we'll be fine._

 

**_I don't have dirty thoughts._ **

 

_Yes, you do._

 

**_How long have you been hearing ME, then?_ **

 

_Whenever you've been around the last seven days..._

 

**_Oh goodie._ **

 

_Really?_

 

**_No._ **

_You've taken suppressors? Haven't you?_

 

They sat around the table, her gingerly sipping her wine and pretending to be listening attentively to Greg's story about the one-legged thief. Unfortunately not managing to interject whatsoever.

 

**_Does it matter?_ **

 

_You're not talking about my vagina, so yes._

 

**_Should I be?_ **

 

_Stop pretending you haven't. I heard you._

 

Her hand accidentally touched his thigh and she was surprised to find - - _Sherlock?_ \- - His eyes widened slightly, before she gently drew back her hand.

 

**I couldn't hear you. Fascinating.**

 

_That's weird._

 

**_As opposed to hearing me...? But clearly touching me helps. I suggest you do it again. And stop thinking it's dirty._ **

 

_I'm not._

 

**_I can feel it._ **

 

_Stop finding it funny, then!_

 

 _What?_ _**What?** _

 

She could feel Sherlock's confusion, even more so when he seemed _feel_ hers as well, the pair of them glancing at each other, while she tried to eat her food, and his fork kept hovering by his mouth.

 

**_Besides thoughts... We can feel - -_ **

 

And that's when she felt rather frustrated, like a coiled spring ready to be flung across the room, the sort of heated urgency, the annoyance underneath the -

 

_Are you horny?_

 

**_No._ **

 

_Sherlock, stop that!_

 

**_I'm testing the parameters of our union._ **

 

_This isn't a union! - - You can test it without thinking dirty thoughts._

 

**_It's currently the strongest emotion._ **

 

_What's the second strongest emotion? Because use that one instead!_

 

 _"_ Molly - anything good come in at St Bart's recently?" asked Greg shuffling some broccoli into his mouth, looking at her with earnest curiosity.

 

**_Jealousy._ **

 

She stared at Sherlock, gaping slightly, before she whipped her head back to the direction of Greg who looked puzzled. "No, not really."

 

_Are you actually jealous? Of Greg?_

 

**_Jealousy is hardly a rational emotion, Molly. No need to be surprised. Lestrade has been hankering after you for years and you've been mildly attracted to him -_ **

 

_No, I've not._

 

**_I can smell you. You hardly conceal any of it._ **

 

_I fancied Mike Stamford once._

 

**_Is that supposed to make me feel better?_ **

 

_During my heat I've got not filter._

 

**_While my daily life is imagining what I could do to - OH GOD._ **

 

_I suppose your suppressors are fading._

 

**_You think?!_ **

 

His hand was suddenly on her knee, his full and warm palm encircling her knee making the goose bumps stand on end on her kneecap of all places. Molly blushed slightly, her cheeks rather warm, as she suddenly felt a warm tongue encircle her taut nipple.

 

BAM!

 

Her knee jerked underneath the table, Sherlock's hand colliding with a groan on the mahogany, while she blanched, staring wide-eyed at the others around the table. They returned the expression. "Sorry," she blurted out, focusing on the plate with food on it.

 

_WHAT ARE YOU THINKING ABOUT?_

 

**_You felt that, didn't you?_ **

 

_Sherlock!_

 

**_I was just curious whether or not it would work._ **

 

_You're not making any sense? What would work?_

 

"What's going on with you two?"

 

"Nothing's going on!" said Sherlock to John who gaped at him.

 

"Err, I was asking Greg, but _thanks_?"

 

_Might need to actually pay attention to the conversation I think..._

 

Molly schooled her expression and noticed that Mary was eyeing her with particular interest.

 

_Touch me._

 

**_That sounds rather rude._ **

 

"Well, then, there's no problem," said Sherlock cheerily while John shared a glance with his wife. "So one-legged thief anyone? Do go on George-,"

 

Greg didn't even bother to correct him, but did stare, "Not much of a story to be honest, or well, you obviously didn't listen - since I finished it already?"

 

"Yeah, it was rather boring," said Sherlock.

 

"Sherlock!" said John annoyed. "Could you please play nice? …Jesus."

 

"… So sorry George. I'm sure the story about the one-legged man was average at best."

 

"Oh god."

 

_You weren't even paying attention!_

 

She avoided glancing into his direction, trying to look normal, however hard it was, and she genuinely hoped no one would drag her into a conversation.

 

**_Neither did you, but if he'd stop looking at you, I'd not need to defend my territory._ **

 

_I'm not your territory, Sherlock!_

 

**_You know what I mean._ **

 

_Do I really?_

 

**_We need to see your friend._ **

 

_No, we're not._

 

**_You've not told her, have you?_ **

 

_Yes I have!_

 

**_Molly, I know when you're lying._ **

 

_Shut up! Everyone thinks we're mad._

 

She wasn't wrong. The general air in the room was stiffening to say the least, the others drinking more than eating in silence, with the exception of Mary who was still staring at the pair of them like she knew they were having a private conversation right in front of them. Molly was about to say something, smile readied on her lips when she _felt_ a hand slide between her legs, careful and warm. She looked down to see no hand, but she could _feel_ it. It was unnerving, even more so to feel a finger glide against the fabric of her knickers, followed by another, slow and steady strokes, her leg wobbling in response and surprise. And so she felt those warm fingers drag themselves against her already hot flesh, cruelly slow, before they stopped, the pressure of those phantom fingers remaining there.

 

**_We need to see your friend…And I'll stop._ **

 

**_Do you want me to stop?_ **

 

She quickly imagined touching his cock, and Sherlock's knee jerked underneath the dining table, his glass of wine spilling across the pretty white tablecloth. Molly bit her laughter down, pressing her lips together.

 

It was almost too easy.

 

"Oi!" said Greg in surprise.

 

"What is going on?" said John.

 

"Yes, what _is_ going on?" said Mary.

 

_I win, but I should go._

 

**_Yes._ **

 

"Umm," she begun, clearing her throat. "I'm not feeling so good." The others stared, though looked like they thought they knew why. "I think I've got to go. I'm so sorry."

 

Sherlock stood up, his chair scraping against the floor.

 

_I can go alone._

 

"I'm leaving as well," said Sherlock, making her almost cringe.

 

_Subtle..._

 

"Right," said John throwing his napkin on his plate in annoyance.

 

Molly gave an awkward smile, "I'm, I'm really sorry-," she said, surprised to find herself pulled by her hand by Sherlock who looked sincerely determined, and who she luckily, or unluckily couldn't hear the thoughts to.

 

The door to the house slammed shut at their hasty departure.

 

Lestrade turned to look at Mary and John, "They're shagging, aren't they?"


	3. Side Effects

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes. It's me. Completing something for once. Took me aaageees. I was the one who edited it, so we'll umm see if it was any good. Hope you enjoy!

The inside of her palm sweated.

 

Her hand had been tingling evenly throughout the persistent handholding. He couldn’t hear her…at least for now, though he more than likely felt her clammy hand.

 

Her thoughts were her own private concern for now, and the concern was mounting, reaching a peak she didn’t want to consider too hard.

 

Maybe he was right?

 

Maybe she should just quit?

 

None of _this_ was normal _,_ especially the holding of hands that kept happening - any time he had to let go in some kind - she could hear the buzz of thoughts flinging about in his head (or well hers now) - messy scrambled things that made her head almost ache.

 

She’d either have to get used to it, or she’d just have to quit the pills.

 

She could pretend like nothing, and go back to the old regular ones that made her into an aching mess around him, which would only benefit him. The thought made her almost grind her teeth, her jaw clenching repeatedly throughout their cab ride, which was spent mostly in silence, though she knew his mind was probably still racing with or without her hearing it.

 

She’d texted Meena who’d quickly replied back promising to be present at her lab, apparently thrilled by the events unfolding, as she’d followed her text with a quick awkward ring. Meena’s voice booming on the other end while Molly tried to remain calm - “You mean _he_ can hear you too? …Oh my God? Really? Why didn’t you tell me?” - all loud and enthusiastic and breathless. “But you’ve got to touch to keep it quiet? - _Nice!_  - Just imagine if you had sex!” Sherlock’s hand had jerked against her own at that, and her hand had never felt sweatier than just then.

 

She avoided eye contact that very moment.

 

“Meena,” she’d moaned, pursing her lips, trying very hard not to convey the awkwardness she felt any further in front of the cabbie whom was turning his head to look at them far oftener than she wished.

 

If the cabbie ended up recognizing Sherlock there would be no end to any of it! They’d be on the front cover of the Daily Mail and she’d never live any of it down. “Just get to the lab, as quickly as possible, okay?”

 

“Okay, okay, I’ll be there in like two sec.”

 

In ‘Meena speak’ that regularly meant ‘maybe an hour if you’re lucky so say two instead’.

 

She almost groaned when she hung up, the silence in the cab stifling at best, forcing her to clear her throat just to check that she hadn’t suddenly lost her hearing. Sherlock wasn’t saying anything, though she knew he was thinking about it, or she was at the very least.

 

Staring out of the window, she diverted her attention to the sight of Thames appearing to her left, and tried to pretend like her hand was cool instead of the hot mess it was (at least her body wasn’t the hot mess…).

 

Molly was, however, taken rather aback when she felt her hand being released.

 

She felt all of a sudden like blood rushed back to the lower parts of her body, her cheeks heating up in the process. Her clothes somehow felt too tight on her body, as if her top was about to burst open, the buttons just about to pop -

 

**_I think we need to consider what your friend suggested._ **

****

_What?_

 

**_Imagine if we had sex._ **

 

_WHAT? Nooooo._

 

She had imagined that...Lots of it. _Lots_. In every position possible, in every way possible - _his hard cock sliding between her wet slick folds that pulled him back in at every push and pull. The pair of them coiled together in rapture, while her body was soft and yielding under his angular frame. Sweat running down his brow, as she could feel the sweet release of bliss quiver throughout every inch of her body -_

 

“Enough,” he said out loud, grabbing her hand fiercely this round, and she stifled a giggle, her cheeks heated by what she guessed weren’t her own filthy thoughts. “Or _else_.”

 

The expression on his face seemed calm, even reserved, while she only blinked at the threat. The underlying idea that he could just conjure up a thought and she would feel it, something she could do as well in retaliation, in the back of the cabbie.

 

It was tempting.

 

It was his fault it was tempting.  

 

He was so repressed in a way, or so she’d always thought.

 

Clearly, she was wrong, yet she wasn’t wrong.

 

She might have taken the pills, but it was his fault he was an anomaly.

 

It was his fault they suited biologically, or as Meena had jokingly referenced to it - that they were _soul mates._

 

Because it just felt so typically _him_ , to make her life complicated in one way or the other, leaving her with no option than to lo-

 

Molly shook her head, letting out a breath in annoyance.

 

The pills were just a side effect to a bigger thing.

 

Why hadn’t he just gotten himself knotted ages ago?

 

Why did it have to be her after years of need?

 

Why hadn’t he just fucked her sooner?  Why hadn’t he just had her on the floor of the lab, her knees hurting from the tiles on the floors, as he pounded against her, every moan, a mixture between pleasure and pain. His hand grabbing at her hair, pulling her towards him, balancing her on his cock, as he kissed her lips fervently - -

_...Well, umm, no, of course not!_

_Oh God..._

 

Molly began to wonder, whether or not her pills had lost all effect or something. _Probably._ Maybe that was another thing that they should write on the label – “will not work against soul mate.”

 

Then again, he’d started that as well – by the bloody dinner table. She’d always thought she’d been filthy to say the least, though clearly, she wasn’t the only one, then again, biology. If she kept reminding herself that it was in their nature it would be easier to swallow.

 

“That’ll be 5 pounds,” the cabbie said, the taxi taking to a sudden halt.

 

She blinked at the stop, readying herself to get off…

 

She avoided laughing at the concept of _getting off_.

 

Sherlock threw a 20 at the man, not even considering the change, before he dragged her along with him out of the cab and onto the pavement.

 

She held her ground, frowning up at him, and holding him back as the taxi drove off leaving the pair of them outside the building.

 

“What?” he said, furrowing his brows at her, stopping short outside of the sliding glass doors.

 

Molly spotted through the glass the familiar security guard Natalie at the reception who gave her a wave, and she half-heartedly returned the wave with a terrible attempt at a smile.

 

She felt that her cheeks hurt at the effort.

 

“You don’t need to pull me,” she said looking back at Sherlock who looked confused, surprisingly enough by her lack of wanting to be pulled along like a rag-doll. “We need to look…normal.”

 

This was one of the reasons continuing the pills seemed right. She could hold her ground without wanting to throw up, without feeling too guilty when she had all right to be angry, like when she’d slapped him.

 

She’d punished herself for ages after that incident, like many of the others, because to her, _disobedience_ was free-will. The ability to walk away from the push and pull of him, but yet again, he was too strong, like the sea.

 

Sometimes cold, yet, she’d always felt hopeful that…

 

He stared at her, his blue gaze steely, but like always she wondered if there was something there – clearly there was -

 

“If you want to let go of my hand - - be my guest,” he said – his eyes almost twinkling, his hand loosening its grip almost inauspiciously. 

 

She could do it, and maybe she’d now understand him, all of him tucked under so many layers.

 

Molly sighed, tightening her grip on his hand.

 

He returned the favour.

 

“I thought so. It’s not my fault we’ve ended up like this, and the sooner we get into your friend’s lab, the sooner we can get to the end of this.”

 

She’d always found the concept of holding hands – _nice_ – the sort of nice thing Sherlock would never do, if he were ever her alpha, and now he kind of was… with a bucket of side-effects.

 

Of course.

 

“...Hopefully,” she said in a small voice, the doors whooshing open in front of them once more, but they entered this time at least with no protest from her.

 

He didn’t drag her this time, the pair of them walking side by side, like she’d always imagined in her loneliest moments.

 

Somehow, she felt lonelier now than ever.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

The lights flickered on overhead, and the mice in their cages froze up, before continuing either playing or scuttling across the parameters of their glassed cells.

 

Molly held onto Sherlock’s hand like he was her anchor, the pair of them still attached - what else could they do?

 

He’d tried breaking in, and then she’d flashed a guest-badge that she’d gotten from Natalie whom Sherlock had not noticed whatsoever. Even when he’d been standing beside her as they’d been talking (or well she’d babbled the truth very quickly with the important key-phrases, none of it actually including the actual truth).

 

 _He must have a lot on his mind_ , she thought.

 

She knew he did, even if she couldn’t hear those thoughts at that very moment, and letting go of his hand would make everything known to her.

 

Everything.

 

In an odd way, it felt like power.

 

It was probably why he wanted this done and over with, after all.

 

Meena had joked to her about it, and she’d thought about it fleetingly, the idea had been silly, intruding, but now, it felt alluring.

 

She had complete access, but it wasn’t information given willingly.

 

Nor could she control it properly either.

 

All of it just came flooding over her instead, like a wave of thoughts and feelings. She knew that everyone had their tiny little universe, their own little world in their heads, but this was Sherlock Holmes, reporters tried their best to decipher the man.

 

They barely skimmed the surface, all of them trying to portray him as either a complete arsehole or a tortured artist of the mind.

 

He was both, besides other things.

 

Other things she wasn’t entirely familiar with, except those few moments he bothered _revealing_ himself, letting his guard down, and with that, her own. If she continued with the pills, neither of them would have any way of shielding themselves. The pair of them would live, constantly knowing of the other’s feelings and carnal desires. She knew she’d become jealous of his thoughts, especially if he thought of others, which he most likely did.

 

She was just in close proximity; her heat suppressed for once, nothing more than that. Even if the word _soul mate_ kept popping in her head on repeat, teasing her.

 

Molly couldn’t think that this was _romantic_ , or she wouldn’t manage to cope. _Soul mates_ weren’t a real thing, it was a concept made to comfort, to make people believe that there was hope, and she’d clung to that for some time. Ages really. Hope that her heat would pass, hope that in time she’d finally settle down with someone – hope – that maybe he’d see her…  

 

“...I can’t hear you thinking, but I suspect you are,” he said drawing her out of her own head, and back into the lab.

 

She managed to twist on a smile, as she felt his hand slide away and upwards to her wrist. It was a much lighter touch this time. A kinder touch, a sympathetic one, like she was used to him doing.

 

 All those pecks on her cheek throughout the years – with apologies or with wishes for her happiness.

 

“Why are we here?” she said, her eyes on the floor.

 

She felt small, all of a sudden – it was a rhetorical question – why did it have to be her?

 

Him?

 

_Them?_

 

He didn’t answer immediately, taking to breathe out first instead – the outtake almost shaky to her ears, but she didn’t dare look at him. She’d always, always, thought she could read his face. At least from time to time, but she wasn’t so sure anymore. Everything she’d heard earlier only made her wonder – if he was struggling as much as she was?

 

“Isn’t this what you want? ...You want me out of your mind and body.”

 

She laughed, a genuine one, but her eyes were somehow watery despite herself.

 

“You make it sound like I’m rude,” she said with a sniff.

 

He always found her crying uncomfortable, but like all those other times he didn’t comment on her tears.

 

“Well, technically we’re soulmates, aren’t we? …And that’s rude, i _sn’t_ it? Not wanting to be with your soul mate.”

 

She snorted.

 

He laughed, that deep laugh he had from time to time.

 

They stood there then, leaning against the counter, and it felt comfortable, like it did from time to time, but with his large frame right by her side.

 

His hand was still gingerly wrapped around her wrist, her pulse probably thrumming against his palm.

 

“I don’t mind,” he said after the laughter had ended.

 

She looked at him then, but he wasn’t looking at her.

 

Sherlock’s eyes were straight ahead, focused on the white rats.

 

“What?”

 

“I always presumed that somewhere I’d find my match, and I did my very best to avoid it at all cost, but I am grateful - that - - -  it’s you,” he said looking at her now.

 

She smiled weakly, the smile not reaching her eyes, or so she felt, turning so he couldn’t catch the look in her eye, “But none of its real though.”

 

“Isn’t it?”

 

“Your suppressers probably stopped working, you know - it’s just -,” she faltered, not knowing what to say, and feeling disappointment edge its way into the pit of her stomach. “- If we could choose, if we could be ourselves, we’d never choose-,”

 

_She would._

_Oh God she would._

_Again, and again._

_She knew she would._

_Without a doubt._

_But he..._

_The great Sherlock Holmes?_

_The man who persistently valued mind over - everything else?_

_No, never._

_This wasn’t him talking._

_This was some biological urge talking._

 

“Us,” she finished lamely, the air suddenly thick, and she found herself swallowing because of it.

 

He didn’t say anything, which made it somehow worse. It wasn’t like she hurt _him_. If he were himself he’d agree. He’d spent years tossing her aside, ignoring her, misnaming her, making her feel lesser, and it was just these couple of years where she’d felt they were equals, even if there was an unbalance of power between them on occasion.

 

At least now, despite the various complications, she felt sane and good besides him, a sort of calm had descended over her in a different way she’d never felt before. Maybe she’d been in love with him like she’d always presumed all this time, aside from the attraction she’d always felt. Maybe she had always truly been completely lost to him from day one, and while it felt terrible, it felt wonderful to know she hadn’t been entirely lost to base urges.

 

Being in love with him was just _very her_ …

 

“Sorry,” she said after a couple of minutes had passed away in silence.

 

“There’s no need to apologize.”

 

“Still, a bit rude.”

 

“Yes, a bit rude,” he said with a laugh.

 

And she noted with some wonder that she didn’t feel his hand on her wrist – “When did you stop - --?” she said looking down at her free wrist, or thought she said.

 

She wasn’t sure anymore.

 

He cleared his throat all of sudden, his hand tightening once again the hold on her hand.  

 

“I’m sorry,” he said, “You were right…My suppressors have weakened.”

 

Silence descended over the pair of them, as she noticed how visibly agitated he looked, besides how firmly he was holding her hand now.

 

He’d eavesdropped, completely and utterly, and she was torn between feeling angry and confused, but right now she didn’t know how she felt.

 

“Oh,” she said just to fill the silence.

 

There they sat, and she wondered – “How do you do that?” she asked.

 

“Do what?”

 

“Shut off like that… I couldn’t hear you.”

 

“I used to think Mycroft could read my mind,” he said with a small voice.

 

She stifled her laugh by biting her lip.

 

“A joke Molly,” he said, the corner of his mouth twitching. “Maybe.”

 

She laughed, finally brightening up somewhat properly, but catching the look on his face. “ – What?”

 

“Practise.”

 

“You’ve practised to keep your mind clear?”

 

He didn’t reply.

 

“Why?”

 

“Because it’s easier.”

 

“It doesn’t sound easy, Sherlock.”

 

He had that familiar look on his face all of a sudden.

 

She squeezed his hand before he said something they’d both regret.

 

He paused, “Molly, it’s because-,” he begun, his voice a mere rasp, low and full of meaning. “- Because it’s easier than… letting you… _in_.”

 

He let go of her hand, flexing his fingers, turning to look at her.

 

She started.

 

But the air was warm, and a feeling so very familiar in the pit of her stomach appeared; deep – yearning – longing – she blinked at the emotion. The sheer volume of it overcoming her. Too many thoughts, building up throughout the years. Too many feelings, all of them kept back for year.

 

Too many of everything.

 

She didn’t know if she felt relief or ached, to know how close he’d been, yet how far. Sighing was the only thing she felt she could do, like she had been holding her breath all this time.  

 

**_I meant it when I said I needed ‘you’._ **

****

He put his hand over hers, entwining their fingers.

****

“More than… you will ever need me, Molly Hooper.”

 

Molly closed her eyes, barely being able to look at him, his eyes and words so sincere, she could almost not believe it.

 

And that’s when she felt his soft lips on hers, curious and careful, drawing back as sudden as it came.

 

She opened her eyes, catching the blazing look in his blue ones, as he observed her with parted lips. He almost drew his hand away, like he thought he’d misjudged, but it was her who’d misjudged.

 

She moved forward with no hesitation, no shyness, or fear.

 

She had no reason to be.

 

Nor he.

 

They teared off their coats quickly still kissing, heavy fabric landing on the floor, as he lifted her up and put her on the counter, her legs sneaking around his waist dragging him towards her.

 

He was smirking when she drew back for air, so damn well pleased with himself, as she drew off her top, narrowing her eyes at him in the process.

 

She wanted to feel his bare skin, and he complied, starting to unbutton his shirt, irritatingly slow, until she more or less slapped his hands away, ripping the front. The mock-outrage on his face almost made her laugh, but all was forgotten when their lips met again.

 

He was firm as she always imagined, her hands slipping underneath his shirt, sliding across his pale chest. She could feel the prominent bulge in his trousers pressed against her heat, but he wasn’t paying that mind. Not yet.

 

His body still jerked to her, her body responding. They were wearing too much clothes, too many layers, or so she felt about to unbutton his trousers -

 

“OH THANK GOD-,” and there was Meena, drawing for breath as she held open the glass door to the lab. “ – You know I could spot you – like – from the entrance – jesus -,”

 

“What – are – you - doing here-,” Sherlock bit out, while Molly closed the front of his shirt, as if he was being indecent.

 

She was glad she hadn’t managed to open his trousers, as she felt he wasn’t wearing any underwear.

 

Meena made a face, crinkling her nose, “Right okay so - ‘ _my_ lab’, also, you can’t have sex - - until we’ve run some tests.”

 

She was holding a clipboard in her hands.

 

“You’re serious?” Molly said, almost laughing.

 

That’s when Dave appeared from behind Meena, and suddenly she was covered in Sherlock’s coat – “She’s serious.”

 

Meena rolled her eyes, “I told you I could handle this.”

 

“You’ve not been handling – number 76 and 82, though.”

 

Molly crossed her arms, “What’s going on?” her eyes darting to Sherlock who looked furious, specifically at Dave.

 

She’d completely forgotten how _domineering_ an alpha could be, especially when Dave was Dave.

 

The pair of them talked on top of each other, and Meena smacked Dave with her clipboard, letting him hold onto it. “We’ve been keeping an eye on the rats after what you told us that you were hearing voices, and all, and they seemed fine, and then they were – but then they-,” she said in one breath, anxiety plain on her face.

 

“You’re – _babbling_ -,” said Sherlock who didn’t sound condescending, but rather worried.

 

“They-,” began Dave.

 

“They’re dead.”

 

“Ah,” said Sherlock, quickly glancing at her.

 

She frowned, clutching his coat close to her.

 

 _Typical_.

 

* * *

 

 

They’d forced him to leave, to hole up at a safe place, and to not take any of his regular suppressors. Meena had been throwing out words such as ‘natural’ and ‘the way it should be’. She couldn’t forget when Sherlock had said “So – death is a potential side-effect…if we…” The words had just hung there, glaringly obvious, the elephant in the room, but all of it just because of her pills.

 

She _could_ die.

 

If she heard anyone say she’d be “alright” one more time, she’d snap, feeling like she’d been punished sufficiently enough for wanting to have him. She was now in something akin to a hospital bed, kept under observation until the drugs were out of her body.

“Number 76, named Pony had begun to exhibit alpha traits, and ripped the head of her, umm, partner before keeling over herself,” said Meena in a low voice.

 

“Thanks,” said Molly staring at the ceiling from where she lay, feeling rather listless.

 

“It’ll only take a few days.”

 

“I know, I’m sorry, I’m just-,”

 

“It’s that time of the month again,” said Meena.

 

Molly flashed her a look, before frowning and counting in her head, “It actually is.”

 

“Thankfully Sherlock actually left. I was afraid he was going to do something stupid,” said Meena. “…I’ve got to go though, and you better rest.”

 

“I’m not tired-,” said Molly, her shoulders tense.

 

“Well then - what exactly happened, minus what I saw of course-,” Meena giggled.

 

“He – didn’t tell me how he felt, he just, he let me feel it, and it was-,” and she could feel that ache again, this time in her chest, and she blinked.

 

_Oh god._

**_Yes?_ **

****

_You can’t be here._

****

**_I’ll keep my distance._ **

****

“You alright?” said Meena.

 

_What if I rip your head off?_

**_Preferably not._ **

 

“Yeah, but you’re right – it’s late – and I’m tired-,” she might have said it too quickly.

 

Meena looked around the otherwise empty room, and pursed her lips, “Right… okay… I’ve got camera’s though.”

 

**_And I have access._ **

****

_Is that how you’re doing this?_

“Goodnight – Molly-,” said Meena, while she could only half-pay attention to what her friend was saying.

 

**_Just close enough not to make you feel sick. Lessens too many of those wayward thoughts._ **

****

_Right…_

**_Except._ **

****

She could feel the weight of him above her, but he wasn’t there.

 

She could feel his hands glide against her ankle –

 

_Sherlock!_

**_What?_ **

****

_…Don’t stop._

His hands slipping upwards under her nightgown, spreading her legs, as his mouth latched onto the centre of her, licking and sucking.

 

She was clutching after the air, then the bedsheets.

 

His tongue twisting within her heat, already ready, too ready – his fingers slipping easily inside.

 

He kissed her repeatedly, sucking and making her moan.

 

She drew him closer, her legs locking themselves behind his hips. He entered her, his thick cock easily thrusting inside, and his hands dug into her hips as she met him at every following thrust.

 

He dragged his mouth over one of her taut nipples, visible through the fabric of her dressing gown. She was so very hot, and welcoming.

 

She could almost feel every thrust, every push and pull of him, his hands spreading her legs further and further apart.

 

_My turn…_

Her mouth was around his cock, sucking and feeling every nerve down to the base. He was thrusting into her mouth, sighing and moaning underneath her, desperate, and wanton.

 

So very hard in her mouth.

She was straddling him now, her hips grinding down, as his hands held onto her. He was near, she could tell, on the edge already.

 

**_That’s not-_ **

****

She slowed down, pulling herself up until only the tip of his cock was touching her moist cunt, and pushing herself down on him again causing him to grunt. She did this over, and over again. Until he jerked underneath her, almost punishing her by holding hard onto her hips, thrusting faster and faster.

 

Until, they both could feel, everything and nothing at the same time. All of that frustration, anger, want throughout all of those years. Coiled within him and her. This wasn’t biology, this wasn’t soul mates, this was them.

 

It was always going to be them.

 

_Sherlock?_

 

She lay in the bed breathing heavily, smiling so much her pleasantly warm cheeks ached.

 

She wanted more.

 

It wasn’t real.

 

Not yet.

 

**_I’ll be here until you’re in the all clear._ **

 

But soon.

 

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
